


(we never said goodbye)

by voleuse



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Doctor Who, The West Wing
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-11-25
Updated: 2005-11-25
Packaged: 2017-10-04 07:37:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/voleuse/pseuds/voleuse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>We stopped to watch the three card monte dealer.</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	(we never said goodbye)

**Author's Note:**

> Post-Chosen, spoilers through TWW 7.05. Title and summary adapted from Matthew Thorburn's _A Walk Through Chinatown With Gertrude Stein_.

Buffy's never trusted the weather on the East Coast. It's cold when it should be mildly windy, and muggy when it's supposed to be scorchingly hot. At least, that's what _she_ thinks weather should be like.

"I miss California," she mutters, but for now, she's stuck in the sunless wasteland of not-quite-DC, and everything smells like asphalt.

She scuffs a foot against the pavement, and dislodges a chunk of broken glass. She wrinkles her nose, then something buzzes in a corner of her brain.

_Vampire_, she thinks, and suddenly she's not so sorry about letting Giles go Slayer-seeking in Baltimore alone.

She hunts.

*

 

She also, in the hour that follows, regrets the need for discretion.

There are too many people out, even after midnight, and this vampire doesn't seem to care about wandering down dark alleys to accost or be accosted.

Buffy eyes the last of an avenue of posh clothing shops and sighs. The vampire keeps strolling.

"Great," she mutters. "A window shopper."

Then the vampire picks up speed, and heads down a darker road, a transition into a residential area.

Buffy curses, and tries to stalk stealthily.

*

 

The neighborhood is posher than the shopping district, as far as she can tell. Everything is pristine and raked and there's no hint of a thumping bass line _anywhere_. It's straight out of the movies, but the boring kind that has tasteful nudity and portentous violence.

It's also way too quiet, even though some windows are still lit. Buffy raises her chin and tries to look like she belongs in the neighborhood. It doesn't look tourist-friendly, and she doesn't actually have a good explanation for any suspicious residents.

Meanwhile, that damn vampire is fifty feet ahead of her, still off on its evening constitutional, and good _god_, Giles has infected her with his old guy vocabulary.

Buffy's in the middle of plotting a trap involving Giles, an Ashlee Simpson CD, and sweet, sweet revenge, when the vampire swivels on its heel and scampers down a side street.

"The hell?" She pauses for a minute, then jumps an iron-wrought fence, ducking down to run behind a hedge.

She follows her spidey-sense to a looping road, and she hears a couple of raised voices, male and female, across the way.

Angry yuppies, standing outside at night. If the vamp is looking for easy victims, this couple is perfect.

She creeps closer, but doesn't see any sign of her prey. The couple's moving their argument from the porch to the yard, and Buffy can't help but eavesdrop.

The woman, tall, lanky, and wearing a kickass suit, is standing out in the open. Her hands are on her hips, and she's _pissed_. "Did you even think through the ramifications of this?"

"Of course I did." He's still hovering near the doorway, his shoulders hunched. "And I was prepared for the consequences."

The woman turns. "I don't give a damn about your consequences," she spits out. "What about Ginger? She'll be subpoenaed. Maybe indicted."

The man folds his arms. "Ginger had nothing to--"

"Or the rest of your staff? They saw you meet with Greg, didn't they?" The woman strides back to him, within arms' reach. "And what about me?"

It's on that last word the woman's voice breaks, and Buffy shifts uncomfortably on her feet.

"C.J." The man is reaching a hand to the woman, but she jerks her body away. His hand clenches into a fist, and drops slowly to his side. "We should take this inside."

And that, of course, is Buffy spots the vampire again. It's just around the corner of the house, and wearing a human face. And, Buffy finally notices, a press pass.

"Excuse me," the vampire calls out, "Mr. Ziegler? Ms. Cregg?"

The man and woman step even farther apart, their faces clearing of emotion.

Ziegler smiles, his lips pressed together. "A little late for an interview, isn't it?"

The vampire leers, looks between the two of them. "A little late for a business meeting, isn't it?"

"I don't know what you're trying to imply," Cregg says, "but I'm not going to respond to that."

"Doesn't matter." The vampire shrugs, then morphs into vamp-face. "I wasn't here for answers, anyway."

Cregg swears and stumbles back against Ziegler, and Buffy stands up, starts to sprint towards them.

Before she reaches them, however, another couple appears on the other side of the lawn.

"Inside!" the new man shouts. "And lock the door, don't open it!"

Ziegler and Cregg comply, slamming the door shut as they retreat. The vampire snarls, rounds on the interlopers.

Buffy curses under her breath, pulls out a stake.

"Rose," the man says, and his companion uncaps a bottle of water, splashes the contents onto the vampire.

The liquid spatters against its face, hisses and steams. The vampire shrieks, and the man points a gadget at its heart.

The vampire explodes into dust.

"Huh," the man says. "They've never done that before." Then he looks up at Buffy. "Are you all right?"

Buffy clutches her stake. "How did you do that?"

"Who wants to know?" The girl, Rose, crosses her arms. "Who are you, anyhow?"

The man studies Buffy, then grins. "You're a Slayer, aren't you?"

"What's a slayer?" Rose demands. "Like that band?"

Ignoring Rose, Buffy studies the man back, assesses the stance, the know-how, the accent. "Are you a Watcher?"

"Sort of, yeah." His grin stretches even wider. "Just not one of yours."

"Okay." Buffy draws the two syllables into five. "You _are_ kind of tweedless." She looks at the house. "You think they'll be okay?"

Rose punches the man in the shoulder, and he darts a look at her. It lengthens, becomes more than a look.

Buffy shifts uncomfortably on her feet. Again. Clears her throat.

The man snaps his attention back to her. "They'll be fine." His gaze flickers inward for a second. "Eventually."

Buffy raises her eyebrows. "If you say so."

A siren wails in the distance.

"Best be off, then." The man tugs at his jacket lapels. "And you, too. I don't imagine you get along with the authorities."

Buffy smiles. "Not so much."

Rose is already around the corner of the house, and he starts walking backwards. "Nice to meet you, Miss Summers," he says, nodding.

"You, too," Buffy says, and turns away. Then stops. "How did you--"

She turns the corner of the house, but there's a shiver in the air, and no sign of them.

"Weird," she says, and pulls out her cell phone. Dials, and it rings three times before Giles answers.

"Do you know what time it is?" he grumbles over the line.

Buffy laughs, and starts the long walk back to her hotel.


End file.
